


Psyche

by Magical_Destiny



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cupid - Freeform, Fluff, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Hannibal continues to make mythological parallels to his relationship with Will, M/M, With Mixed Results, cupid and psyche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 21:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10447803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Destiny/pseuds/Magical_Destiny
Summary: The tale of Cupid and Psyche was never one of Hannibal’s favorite myths. He found Cupid, the god who unwittingly inflicted love on himself, to be a fool.And then he met Will.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's been a long time since I published anything! In my defense, I went to the Women's March on Washington AND Red Dragon Con 3 AND I moved, all in the last three months. Finding writing time has been a struggle. But I have several fics in the works, so hopefully you haven't heard the last of me! In the meantime, let me know if you enjoy this ficlet! I've been up to my eyes in Greek mythology ever since I read (and wept over) The Song of Achilles. Apparently this obsession has spilled over into my fic efforts, as obsessions do. At least we know Hannibal would approve. ;)
> 
> A huge thank you to [hannibalnuxvoxmica](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalnuxvoxmica), for betaing and for always being an encouragement. <3

Hannibal is redecorating his dining room. The wallpaper is already to his liking; the tiered shelves of herbs built into the walls are bold enough for his taste. He’s fond of the fireplace, the glass doors, the mahogany table. And yet something about the room seems dull when he looks at it. Empty and slightly gray, despite the vivid palette. Artwork is surely the remedy. 

The Baltimore art dealer is only too happy to comply with Hannibal’s request to view works dealing with Greek mythology. He has an excellent copy of _Leda and the Swan_ which Hannibal is quite taken with. It would make a wonderful and slightly scandalous addition to the dining room. But there is another exquisite copy that has caught his eye: a miniature reproduction of the sculpture _Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss_. It’s a glorious reproduction in smooth white marble. There is something so fluid in their outstretched arms, in Cupid’s extended wings. Hannibal considers. His intense demeanor silences the talkative dealer as he waits for a verdict. 

The myth of Cupid is an appealing subject in some respects, a perfect mixture of violence and love. Cupid himself was imagined as an angelic figure by artists of antiquity, with a pair of white wings and a beautiful face, his only adornment a quiver of razor-tipped arrows. Psyche was unaware of the moment he fell in love with her. Sent by his mother, the jealous goddess Aphrodite, Cupid glanced dismissively at the sleeping Psyche as he reached for the arrow that would doom her to fall in love with a monster. But in a single moment of shimmering fate, the divine archer pricked himself with his own enchanted arrow. 

Hannibal wonders whether the god had realized the gravity of his mistake. Surely he must have seen the blood welling on his fingertip, even though the arrows of Cupid were painless in the moment of impact. He must have seen the wound, even as fierce, insatiable love blossomed in his chest. The love of a god, sealed with the blood dripping from his hand. He married Psyche. He knew what had befallen him, what dire consequences might result, yet he did not resist.

Hannibal decides. “I believe I will take _Leda and the Swan_.”

The art dealer is polite, despite a tendency to chatter, so Hannibal doesn’t request his business card. Instead he allows his mind to wander through Cupid’s tale of love and mistakes and suffering. 

Cupid, Hannibal decides, was a fool. 

===

The opportunity to consult with the FBI is too irresistible for Hannibal to even consider the wiser choice: not putting himself within range of those devoted to finding him. The opportunity to work with a man as shadowed and barbed as Will Graham is even more irresistible. He has so much _potential_. 

Will is terribly agitated and even angry when he leaves at the end of what would have been a neutral encounter — had his perception been less sharp. Hannibal is delighted. 

“Perception's a tool that’s pointed on both ends,” he tells Jack Crawford as he examines the wall papered with photos of bloodied victims.

Unbidden, he thinks of the sculpture of Cupid and Psyche he’d decided against, the quiver of arrows at Cupid’s side. Could it be that love was also pointed on both ends? That Cupid, when he reached into his quiver to unleash destruction on someone, always ran the risk of wounding himself? He puts away the idle thought for later consideration as he discusses the case with Jack. 

As he drives back to Baltimore, he turns a question over in his mind. Cupid knew the power and the risk of his weapons.

Had he really not felt the impact?

===

“Do you believe you could change me, the way I've changed you?”

“I already did.”

Reality often shimmers, when Hannibal looks from the corner of his eye. At the very edges of his vision, he can almost perceive Mischa’s smile, her hand outstretched — as though she’s waiting just beyond the veil of Time. He’s often longed to grasp that petty veil and rip it away, to have her back again, the teacup whole instead of hopelessly shattered. He wonders whether it is truly possible to see beyond the enclosing fabric of reality. 

At the edge of his vision, he can almost see an arrow buried deep in his chest. Strange that he’d never noticed it before. 

He wonders if this is what love is like. Or perhaps this is what death is like, banal and bloody, just one more moment, not so different from the rest, aside from terminating in catastrophe. Will would know; he's been inside so many minds. But Will’s skin is pale against the bright splash of his own blood, his limbs spasming against the pain Hannibal has given him.

Hannibal can't ask him. He might never be able to ask Will anything ever again. 

Hannibal can almost imagine that the blood covering his body is his own, pulsing from the mortal wound in his chest. 

Perhaps somewhere, Cupid is laughing at him.

The rain is cold against Hannibal’s upturned face. Blood and rainwater swirl together on the gray pavement; the blood blossoms into brilliant starbursts before thinning and washing away. Hannibal wonders which droplets are his and which are Will’s and whether there’s any difference anymore. His chest aches in the way that’s become so common since he’d realized Will’s betrayal. Every breath shifts the embedded arrow painfully, tearing at his heart. The blood drips. He wonders if it will ever stop. 

He wonders how long Cupid had to bind his wounded hand before the bleeding was staunched. Or perhaps he forgot to tend to himself, lost in staring at the face of Psyche. 

Cupid was a fool.

_And so am I._

===

Hannibal had so often dwelt on Cupid’s folly. He’d forgotten that the god of love was one of the few who could boast of a happy ending. 

“Do you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?” Hannibal asks, studying the swell of the sea as he arranges a sketchpad across his knees. 

The pile of curls on his shoulder groans and shifts. “It was a sort of Beauty and the Beast story. Psyche thought she was marrying a monster.” 

Hannibal’s shoulder is going numb and he has very little mobility for drawing in this position, but he doesn’t breathe a word of complaint. He hopes Will might fall asleep like this, sunk into the settee on the porch, heavy and boneless against Hannibal’s side as the salty air takes the edge off the Cuban heat. 

“That was what the goddess Aphrodite intended,” Hannibal answers, examining the blank page before him, “but not what occurred.”

Will nods, but otherwise doesn’t move. “Psyche was lost a long time. Trying to complete impossible tasks.” 

“She completed them in the end.”

Will’s chest vibrates when he laughs. “By cheating.”

“With help,” Hannibal corrects. “Her husband found her again, and helped her with the last task.” 

Will shifts at last. At the edge of his vision, Hannibal sees Will’s eyes. When he turns to face him, they’re still there. _Will_ is still there. “I thought they weren’t married at that point.” 

Will’s face has darkened from all the sun. Hannibal sees slightly too much pink underneath the color. “You’re going to burn,” he says, and places his own hat on Will’s head. Before Will can make a face or come up with a protest, Hannibal continues: “They were married…and they weren’t. The true wedding feast and Psyche’s ascension to immortality came later.” 

Will makes a derogatory sound. “Well that clears it right up.” 

Hannibal smiles faintly. “Mythology is always a bit convoluted. It’s a product of the human mind, after all.” 

“Convoluted stories for convoluted hearts. Or is this your way of warning me that I’m about to star in a series of mythology-inspired portraits? I’ve already been Patroclus. I’d rather not be Psyche.” 

“I believe Psyche felt the same way in the darkest portions of her tale. But you are on the right side of your suffering.”

Will doesn’t reply. But he shifts to lay his head across Hannibal’s shoulder again, pulling the brim of the hat low to shield his face from the sun. He isn’t watching Hannibal’s pencil, which Hannibal takes as implicit permission to draw Will as whichever Greek goddesses he likes. He begins to coax an image of Psyche from the blank page, sleeping peacefully on Olympus: the beautiful, long-suffering figure and Love’s willing companion. The only sounds are the scratch of his pencil and the distant murmur of the waves. Will’s breathing deepens until Hannibal is certain he’s asleep. He can’t quite resist the urge to lift the brim for one more look at Will’s face. 

Perhaps Cupid was not so great a fool after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's [Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psyche_Revived_by_Cupid's_Kiss) for anyone who's interested. 
> 
> By the way, my entire reason for writing this fic can be summed up in one line from the pilot script:   
> "Will doesn’t appreciate the intrusion into his psyche." I'm enchanted by the double meaning of psyche/Psyche.
> 
> Also, Hannibal + mythology is just too much fun. Hannibal + ANYTHING is too much fun, honestly. Just today I was watching an opera and thinking about how amazing it would be to write more Hannibal + opera fics, lol. But for now, let me know if you enjoyed this! And if you're glad that it had a happy ending. This ficlet came dangerously close to being angst without a happy ending, but then I realized that I didn't want to write a oneshot of wallowing and despair, I wanted CUBA and HAPPINESS. Aren't you glad? ;)


End file.
